Chapter 35: Chapter 20: Saturation Attack (Part 3)
The national award.
"Understood."
Chen Zhuo nodded. His tone was still calm, but now it held a new layer of seriousness.
"I’ll bring it back."
"Alright."
Old Zhou gave a heavy nod.
He said no more, instead folding the paper with slow, meticulous movements.
Once it was folded, he didn’t stuff it back into the test paper.
Instead, he casually picked up the copy of *Radio* magazine, flipped to a page in the middle, and carefully placed the folded diagram inside.
Then, he closed the magazine.
It was as if it were the most important illustration in the entire magazine, and also the greatest hope for the rest of his life.
Only after doing all this did Old Zhou’s gaze return to the abandoned, crumpled middle school test paper on his desk.
On it, the answer sections for two major problems were completely blank.
There were only two hastily scrawled final answers.
They looked lonely and a little pathetic.
"What about the test paper?" Chen Zhuo asked.
"The test paper?"
Old Zhou glanced at the test paper and waved his cattail fan dismissively, as if shooing away a fly.
"Just leave it there."
Old Zhou leaned back into his wicker chair, settling into his most comfortable position.
"You’ve already built an aircraft carrier on paper. Do you really need me to check if your little sampan has any leaks?"
Old Zhou fanned himself, his tone carrying the carefree air of an old rogue, but his eyes were filled with an unconcealable smile.
"I’ll just give you a perfect score later. As for the spot on the training team, anyone else could leave, but you won’t."
"Alright, if there’s nothing else, scram."
Old Zhou waved his hand, issuing an order to leave.
"Stop being an eyesore here. Go back to your class, or find a place to take a nap. Starting tomorrow, you’re going to be busy."
Chen Zhuo stood there, not leaving immediately.
He looked at Old Zhou, then at the copy of *Radio* with his diagram tucked inside.
He could feel that something had changed.
If before it was simply a matter of turning in homework, now it had become a promise.
"Thank you, Teacher."
Chen Zhuo said softly.
Then he turned and walked toward the door.
The door creaked open, then closed softly.
Chen Zhuo’s figure disappeared into the shadows of the hallway outside.
The office returned to its usual tranquility.
All that remained were the chirping of cicadas, the sound of Old Zhou’s waving cattail fan, and the occasional puff of a cigarette.
A long time passed.
Not until the cigarette had burned down to the filter and scalded his fingers.
Only then did Old Zhou stub out the cigarette in the enamel ashtray, which was already full of butts.
He sat up straight and reached for the *Radio* magazine.
He opened it.
And once again drew out the piece of paper.
He unfolded it.
The afternoon sunlight landed perfectly on the integral formula for air resistance, making every symbol clearly visible.
Old Zhou looked at the formula, reached out with a rough finger, and lightly flicked the surface of the paper.
The paper made a crisp sound.
"The national award..."
Old Zhou muttered, a long-absent light twinkling in his eyes.
"Now *this*, goddammit, is what you call hope."
He pulled open a drawer and rummaged for a moment through a messy pile of pens, finally finding a red ballpoint.
Next to the precise diagram, below the hastily scrawled formula, he drew a crooked, oversized check mark.
Not on the test paper.
But on this sheet of paper.
After he finished, Old Zhou stared at the check mark for a moment, then nodded in satisfaction.
He folded the paper again, tucked it back into the book, then placed the book in the deepest part of the drawer and locked it.
Then, he leaned back in his chair again, closed his eyes, and the cattail fan in his hand began to sway rhythmically once more.
WHOOSH~
WHOOSH~
The sound of the breeze was gentle.
On this stuffy afternoon, in this corner of the campus filled with mediocrity and test-oriented education.
At that moment, Old Zhou felt that his own shabby office was even cooler than the air-conditioned principal’s office.
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